Iam a rock climber. My milieu is sunny stone—anywhere I can find it. I
am fortunate to live in the southeast, a region that may well have the
best concentration of quality cragging in the country. As I grew up, the
deeper I explored the south's storied and colorful climbing scene, the
more its adventure-climbing ethic shaped my perspective.

Onsighting routes is the single most important aspect of my climbing.
Knowing all the holds, moves and pro reduces a climbing experience to
the lowest common denominator in both a physical and mental sense. For
me, the goal is not to learn every move by rote, but rather to savor the
challenge of getting the climb on the first go. The appeal lies in the
unknown.

Taking photographs can be part of this adventure. There is nothing like
shooting a climber as he or she attempts to onsight a route. Confronted
with the unexpected, climbers display a full range of emotion as they
struggle through each section of a route. They are apprehensive about
turning a blind corner. They fight to hang on while placing a delicate
piece of gear from a bad stance. Their focus intensifies as they climb
farther from their last piece. They are relieved or even surprised to
find a good hold. In short, they act naturally, and their eyes are the
points at which their physical situation and their emotions meet.

Capturing these spontaneous moments in a climber's eyes is no easy task.
As the photographer, I must know when these moments are going to occur
on a route, so I try to climb the route first myself to determine the
best shooting angle for each one. Which way will a climber's body face
when she does the move? How will I catch her eyes? Where will she likely
stop for gear? When will she climb out of my field of view? Once I've
answered these questions, I set myself up and wait for the drama I've
imagined to unfold.

Most of the images on these pages depict climbers trying to onsight a
route near the upper end of their abilities. In many cases, I am
shooting the route "onsight" as well—on the fly, with the light I have
on hand. I have not shot test rolls on the route or scoped a number of
angles. I do not have assistants holding reflectors for me. I have not
asked the climber to dress in the latest clothing. I am shooting the
route simply because the climber is psyched to give it a go. The
climber's enthusiasm to be on the route and my challenge to capture it
in real-time merge into a powerful synergy.

It could be argued that my approach limits my options, or that I am
reducing the odds of getting a good image. Sure, my misses are more
mundane, but after all the effort and patience, the hits are immensely
rewarding. In the end, my motivation for capturing a compelling moment
at an obscure eighty-foot southeastern crag does not come from fame and
money. Perservering through challenges to bring back a unique image—one
that encapsulates the essence of a particular climber's experience on a
specific route—is the ultimate prize. If these images go on to
publication and in some way inspire others to seek out their own
moments, so much the better.

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